


Cold Be Travelers Far From Home

by minumi



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: An exploration on the life of exiled royalty, Angst and Feels, Durin Family, Dwarf family dynamics, Hurt/Comfort, Sibling Bonding, the line of durin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 05:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3237653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minumi/pseuds/minumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Cold be hand and heart and bone,</i><br/><i>and cold be sleep under stone:</i><br/><i>never more to wake on stony bed,</i><br/><i>never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead.</i><br/><i>In the black wind the stars shall die,</i><br/><i>and still on gold here let them lie,</i><br/><i>till the dark lord lifts up his hand</i><br/><i>over dead sea and withered land."</i><br/>--JRR Tolkien, LOTR</p>
<p>In the wake of exile and dragon's fire, the Line of Durin endures . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Be Travelers Far From Home

* * *

 

 

“Frerin!!”

 

Dwarrow wailed all around him. Walking on shaky limbs, coughing the smoke from their lungs, some clutching at blistered raw skin. They trudged through the desolation the dragon created in the great plain between Dale and the gates of the mountain. Nothing remained, no bird nor beast, no battered tree nor mangled shrub, nor even a withered blade of grass. All was dust, ash, and despairing howls riding the wind.

 

“ _Frerin_!!”

 

Throat parched from all the smoke and the dust that plumed around the weary marchers, Thorin’s breath rasped thickly in his chest with every desperate pant. There was no clean air to be found, everything was sour ash in his mouth. If he thought too long of what that ash might consist of he would heave and there would be no stopping.

 

There was no time for shock, dismay, _grief_. There was only--

 

“ _FRERIN_!!”

 

In the midst the dwarrow trailing at the back of their long march, was a young dwarf barely into his adolescence. His golden hair was dark with soot, his steps unsteady, but he held fast to a bundle in his arms. Thorin was beside him before he even realized his feet had moved, pulling him into his embrace so tightly that their lungs had no chance to draw air.

 

“Frerin! Frerin! Brother--” Thorin pulled back enough to look down at his younger brother’s sallow face, brushing away his matted hair. “How badly are you hurt? Where is mother? Oh, Dís-- Dís, our little gem--”

 

He pulled the shawl back from the bundle in Frerin’s arms to reveal the soot smudged face of his youngest sibling. Pale chapped lips parted slightly as her shallow breaths rasped in and out of her lungs. Thorin cupped her face, thumb gently stroking away the ash from her whiskers. She did not stir in the least.

 

“S-She will not wake . . .” Frerin swallowed thickly. He trembled though the air was still rank with the heat of the dragon’s breath. It was a wonder he had not dropped his precious cargo.

 

“She has breathed too much smoke. We must get her to a healer. Come, let me have her--” Thorin stopped short as his brother quickly backed away, his shaking worsening.

 

“Mama said not to let her go,” he said with a force that belied his frail form, but soon the daze took over once more, “She will not-- she will not wake. . .”

 

“Brother-- _Frerin_ , we must get Dís to a healer and quickly. Let me carry her for a while, you need rest--”

 

“Mama said not to let her go!” The shout drew a few weary eyes, but the dwarrow around them slowly plodded on, each lost in a struggle with their own sorrows.

 

“Frerin,” Thorin gently took his panting brother by the shoulders, pressing his forehead to his brow, “You are safe now. Please, we must get you _both_ looked after. Come, let me take Dís so that we may travel more quickly.”

 

“You aren’t _listening!!_ Mama said-- Not. To let. GO!”

 

Frerin ripped out of his embrace, holding onto his sister impossibly tight. His breath rattled in his chest, and his eyes were crazed as he looked around the desolation surrounding them. When his eyes found Thorin again, it was as if he were seeing his brother for the first time.

 

“T-Thorin?”

 

“Frerin--” he reached for his brother again, heart aching.

 

“H-have you seen Mama? She was . . . She was right behind me.”

 

Ice crystallized then shattered in his veins.

 

“THORIN!!”

 

Warmth suffused him once more at the sound of his father’s voice, “Father! Over here, I’ve found them!”

 

Thrain pushed through the crowd towards his children, pulling them tight to his arms once within reach.

 

“Frerin, my son-- Dís, sweet gem-- Where is Brís? Where is your Mother?”

 

“Father--” Thorin tried to stay his father when he reached for his daughter.

 

“Give her here, lad--”

 

“NO! M-Mama said not to let go!” Frerin’s voice broke as he backed away. He tripped over a dead root and would have crashed to the ground were it not for Thorin’s grip steadying his shoulders.

 

Thrain stood frozen, his lone eye widening in growing horror.

 

“Where is your Mother, Frerin? I left her in your charge.”

 

“She w-was right behind me . . . She was . . . She was . . ”

 

“I left her in your charge to bring to safety! Where is your Mother, boy!” Thrain grasped his youngest son by his tunic.

 

“Father--” Thorin tried to interject with a calming hand on his shoulder.

 

“She-- she-- was right behind . . ” Frerin’s breaths came in quick gasps.

 

“Where is she?!” Thrain’s look turned crazed as he shook his son roughly by the scruff, “You miserable fool!! _Where is she?!"_

 

“Father, stop!” Thorin tried to place himself between them, to shield his younger siblings from his father’s shocked rage.

 

Thrain quivered with misdirected fury, pushing his eldest out of the way to pull his daughter from his son’s hold.

 

“If you could not be trusted with your Mother-- You cannot be trusted with this family’s greatest treasure! Give Dís to me!!”

 

“ _No_!” Frerin curled in around his precious charge, hiding her from his father’s prying hands. “Mama said-- _Mama said--!!”_

 

Thorin watched in a horrified stupor as his family fractured before him. His father raved, clawing at his brother’s arms in an attempt to retrieve his daughter. Frerin gasped around great gulping sobs, mumbling incoherent strings of words. His sister was still and limp between the two, a tiny rag doll caught up in the chaos.

 

“ _ENOUGH_!”

 

His roar echoed across the barren landscape, traveling far across the smoking plains. In the next breath, he was between his father and brother, forcefully pushing the aging dwarf away from his children.

 

“Father,” He levelled his voice, trying to draw up all the commanding strength his Mother would have employed, “That is _enough_.”

 

Thrain sat heavily, the crazed light in his eye dimming. Frerin rocked himself, Dís still wrapped tightly in his arms.

 

“Brother you need to let go,” Thorin urged gently, reaching for his sister.

 

“No! No! I cannot! She said not to let go . . . I cannot--” Frerin shook and sobbed, “I cannot . . . fail her _again_ . . .”

 

Thorin crushed his brother to his chest, letting him hold on a while longer to the last memory of their mother. Beside them, Thrain hammered his fists into the fouled earth.

 

Together, they all wept.

 

* * *

 

_TBC . . ._


End file.
